


(Not So) Immortal

by Rowantreeisme



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Arc Reactor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It Is Very Useful In Life Or Death Situations, Team Dynamics, Temporary Character Death, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowantreeisme/pseuds/Rowantreeisme
Summary: An impossible situation. A horrible choice. A sacrifice that must be made, one way or another."What he saw nearly stopped his breath cold in his chest, because there was Tony, sitting slumped and unconscious against the biggest bomb he’d ever seen, as supervillains, some old enemies and some Steve had only ever heard of, Loki, and MODOK at the forefront, stood across the room, while Doom himself stood right next to Tony."





	(Not So) Immortal

Steve woke up at the same time as everyone else, which was a surprise, considering he was usually up and about way earlier than everyone other than Thor and Bruce. 

He was sure that Tony would have something witty and disparaging to say about that but--

Tony. 

Steve craned his head around, doing a headcount. Natasha, near the corner, looking around for possible escape routes. Clint, with Natasha, glaring out of their cell with the same amount of focus. Thor, clutching Mjolnir and eying the wall contemplatively. Bruce, shackled hand and foot and looking worse for the wear, tired and angry and very much  _ not _ green.

Tony was nowhere in sight, and even hoping, even  _ praying _ that they hadn’t got him, even knowing that they had, he turned around to look out of the cell.

What he saw nearly stopped his breath cold in his chest, because there was Tony, sitting slumped and unconscious against the biggest bomb he’d ever seen, as supervillains, some old enemies and some Steve had only ever heard of, Loki, and MODOK at the forefront, stood across the room, while Doom himself stood right next to Tony.

There was some sort of barrier in between him, the team, and the rest of the dark room, in between him and  _ Tony _ , and he raised his hand to punch it, to bring it  _ down _ , when someone’s hand on his arm stopped him. Not actually physically stopping him, because the hand was too small to be Thor’s hand, but Steve stopped all the same and looked back at Clint, who shook his head. “Don’t. It’ll just hurt you, and no one needs that.” He said in an undertone, and Steve nodded, even though he still wanted to punch the damn thing.

“What is it?” He whispered back, and Clint looked at Bruce, who looked up from where he was inspecting the barrier as best he could with his hands and legs cuffed and shrugged. 

“It’s some sort of blend of magic and tech. I can’t make heads or tails of it.” He said, apologetic.

Steve opened his mouth to say something else, but swearing from outside the cell interrupted him, and he spun towards the noise. 

Tony was awake, awake and spewing vitriol at their captors, gesturing wildly at them, despite the large ornate cuffs chained together around his wrists.

Steve had a very bad feeling about this, which only got worse when Doom waved his hand, and the screens that Steve hadn’t seen before lit up, showing scenes nearly exactly the same to the one in front of them. 

Bombs. Huge, and covered in wires and runes, horrible amalgamations of machine and magic, at least a dozen of them. And, if he was hearing the current monologue right, set all over the city. 

His attention was jerked back to Tony when one of them, a man wearing a cloak that Steve didn’t recognize, spoke. “Ah ah ah! I would not do that if I were you, Mr Stark.” He said, as if chiding a naughty puppy, and Tony just rolled his eyes at him and didn’t stop twisting his hands in the cuffs.

“And why, might I ask, would that be?” He asked, and it was a shadow of Tony’s usually flippant tone, because even Steve could tell that those bombs were the real deal. 

“Because,” He said, grinning to show too-sharp teeth, “If you tamper with those cuffs, if you take them off or prevent them from doing their job in any way, all 13 of these bombs will go off.” 

There was stunned, horrified silence, and Tony’s “I don’t give a  _ fuck _ ” mask slipped into one of grim resignation as his hands froze and dropped back to his sides. “What do you want.” He said, flat and empty and determined.

Like he knew the answer, knew what was going to happen, and still hoped he’d be able to change the outcome. Loki grinned. “What we want, Stark, is for you to  _ die _ .” He snarled, and out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Thor shake his head sadly. 

And then Tony started to laugh. “Are you fucking  _ serious!?” _ He said, looking around incredulously, like he actually didn’t believe them, “All of  _ this _ to kill  _ me?! _ ” He shook his head, and gestured as best he could at the screens and the bomb behind him “No. That’s not right. It’s too  _ easy. _ So, what do you  _ want _ .”

Loki rolled his eyes. “As I have  _ explained _ , we want you  _ dead _ . The…  _ dramatics _ , are because the Lady here,” He said, sweeping a graceful hand towards a woman crackling with dark red energy, “Believes you to be cursed.” 

Tony blinked. “Ok, what the  _ fuck _ . Why am I  _ cursed _ . Who the hell even cursed me _?! _ ” He exclaimed, looking around like the group of villains standing on the other side of the room had an answer. “And how does me being cursed - if I even believe you - have  _ anything _ to do with all of  _ this!? _ ”

Loki shook his head, still smiling that sharp little grin. “The maker of the Curse is unknown. Unfortunately, because for a curse for this to work, the spellwork must be…” He said, giving Tony a look that was decidedly unpleasant, “...Incomparable, and unbreakable. Which is unfortunate, because it is a rather large impediment to our goals.”

“And what are those?” 

Loki rolled his eyes like Tony was a dull child. “As we have said. Our goal, for today, is for you to  _ die!”  _ He snapped. 

Tony looked more frustrated than anything at that point. “And how  _ exactly  _ does a curse  _ prevent _ that? In my experiences, curses tend to, you know, hurry that along, so-”

“ENOUGH!” Doom bellowed, waving his hand, and Tony’s mouth snapped shut around the words with an audible click. “Not  _ this  _ curse. This curse prevents  _ you _ from dying any way other than at your own hand.” He said, and whatever magic was preventing Tony from interrupting fell away with a wave of his hand. 

Tony laughed, a sharp bite of a sound. “Yeah, no. One,  _ how is that a curse _ , and two, I call bullshit.” He said, and Steve wanted to  _ shake _ him because all he was doing was making this situation worse. “Can you  _ see _ this curse? Do you have proof?” He asked, looking around challengingly. 

“Yes. You are  _ still alive _ .” One of them, cloaked in shadow barked. 

Tony shook his head. “Yeah. That’s not proof, because there  _ is no curse _ . The reason I'm still alive is because I'm  _ better _ than  _ all of you _ .” He said, and he was smiling, sharp and hostile and like he’d won the game. “You haven't killed me because I'm smarter than you, because I’ll  _ always _ be smarter than you, and if any one of you losers somehow manage to off me I’ll crawl back from hell and-”

Doom gestured again, and Tony’s mouth clicked shut, although the strength of his glare spoke nearly as loud as whatever obscenities he’d be planning to say. “Curse or not, you die today. MODOK?” He said, and the head clapped with glee as a timer counting down from 15 appeared above the bomb. Doom leaned closer to Tony, and a gun appeared in his outstretched hand. “This is how this is going to work. The manacles you are wearing are linked to these explosives. If, in 15 minutes, your heart hadn't stopped, they will all go off and you, your team, and a good portion of the east coast will die. If you tamper with the manacles in any way, the bombs will go off. If-”

Doom continued, even though Steve could barely hear him over the roaring of blood in his ears, could barely hear as he described all the ways that escape was not possible, the ways that this was a lose-lose situation, the ways that Tony’s death was a certainty. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but according to the clock, was only a minute, Doom stopped, and waved his hand so Tony could speak again. He didn’t say anything immediately, but his eyes narrowed, flicking between the bomb and the timer and the cuffs, until they finally settled on Doom. “If I do this-”

There was a violent reaction from the team, and Steve could barely hear his own voice among them, but he knew what he was saying.  _ No _ , and  _ Don’t _ , and  _ We’ll find a way, please, God- _

Tony ignored them all. “If I do this, I need a guarantee that my team will be safe and  _ these _ -” He gestured at the bombs, both on screen and not, “Will be destroyed. That  _ no one _ will be able to use them. Or recreate them.” He said, looking far too serious, and oh God, he was going to do it. 

The clock ticked down.

Doom nodded, like he was conducting a negotiation for a pay raise instead of someone's  _ life _ . Instead of  _ Tony’s _ life. “All of the spellwork is woven together. The teleportation spell will disintegrate when the bombs deactivate, and the bombs themselves will crumble once the spells holding them together are gone.”

Tony seemed to think that through, and nodded, back straightening and shoulders pulling back, the too-fake grin back on his face, but shaky, cracking around the edges to where Steve could see that he was terrified. “Alright. Is it too much to hope that I can get a last meal? No?” He said, trying for a joke and falling terrible, awfully flat. He sighed, and the last of his mask crumpled. “Ok. Do I at least get to say my last words in private?” He asked, and when Doom didn’t visibly respond, he shrugged. “Thought not.”

With that, Doom held out the gun, and Tony took it, turning it over in his hands with an inscrutable expression. “This is one of mine.” He muttered, holding it up, testing the weight and the balance, and all Steve could do was watch. “You assholes are pretty big on the dramatic irony, aren’t you.” 

There was a crack of a gunshot, and Steve had a horrible moment of fear and his eyes closed of their own accord, not wanting to see, and opened them to see Tony holding the gun right at Doom, the bullet hanging between them in a green mist. Doom shook his head, and the bullet dropped to the floor. Tony shrugged, unapologetic. “You know I had to try.” He said, and went back to inspecting the gun.

When Tony started talking again, Steve almost missed it, because he still wasn’t looking at him, was just muttering, more towards the gun in his hands than anything else. “I don’t- I don’t really know what to say, here. I’ve never really thought about what I wanted my last words to be. Not that I didn’t think I’d ever  _ need _ them, I just didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.” He said, and his voice was so soft that Steve barely heard him. He looked up, towards the cell, but didn’t make eye contact with anyone. “Just- Tell Pep and Rhodey what happened. They- they deserve more than a lie, even if it’s the kinder option. Tell JARVIS  _ India-Mike-Kilo-1-15  _ and your override code. He’ll know what to do.”

Tony looked back down, to where he was holding the gun in front of his chest, and tapped the reactor where it shone through his undersuit. “Right, and get this back. Do  _ not _ let these assholes get it, alright?” He said, looking right at them until they all nodded in unison, not trusting their voices not to crack. He took a deep breath, and continued, the words pouring out like a dam breaking. “Take care of the ‘bots for me. They- they don’t do well alone, and, they need something to do. They need jobs, even if it’s just cleaning out the trash, or organizing everything in different ways. And-” Tony started, and glanced up the clock, ticking down to his death sentence. He took a deep breath. “I think that’s all.” 

He slid the clip out of the gun, checking the bullets, counting his shots, even though he’d only need one, and slammed it home with a snap.

_ No _ .

This couldn’t happen. It just… it just  _ couldn’t _ . 

Because it was  _ Tony _ , and Steve just couldn’t imagine all that energy gone, the light in his eyes or his voice, because it seemed  _ infinite _ . Because Tony was so reckless, so haphazard with his own life that losing it had almost become an impossibility. “Tony…” Steve whispered, unable to look away, away from his finger resting on the trigger of the gun with his name on it in more than one sense, unable to look away from the naked terror in his eyes.

“Oh, and one more thing?” Tony said, and he was looking right at Steve, and a grin flashed across his face, sharp and quick and  _ real _ . “Avenge me.” He said, and for a second, Steve was certain that he had a plan, had some way to get everyone out of this. Had some way to get  _ himself _ out of this.

And then there was a crack, a gunshot, brutal and loud and  _ horrible _ , and Tony crumpled onto the floor, boneless and limp and there was blood, pooling at the back of his head and trickling out of the corner of his mouth, and he was still and Steve was shouting, he couldn’t hear the words but he  _ was _ , frantic and desperate and disbelieving. 

The timer had frozen, and Steve was banging on the wards, ignoring the sharp bites of pain as it threw them off with flashes of sparks, and then he was crumpling forwards onto the cracked, scorched street where’d they’d all been bantering cheerfully less than an hour ago.

Less than half that. When Tony had still-

“JARVIS?” He managed to say, managed to choke out, because he’d  _ promised _ , he’d made a promise to a dead man, and he was going to keep it. There was a crackle of static on the comms, and Steve’s heart sank. “JARVIS?” He asked again, just to be sure, but again, there was no response. 

Someone set their hand on his shoulder. It was Natasha, looking more somber than he’d ever seen her. “What do you want us to do.” She said, and Steve straightened to look at his team, to where Bruce was struggling to keep control, and Clint was yanking arrows from doombots with viciousness, where Thor looked as stormy as the sky above him. 

Steve stood straight, and kicked his shield up to catch it. “We do what he asked us to do. We avenge him.”

 

* * *

 

 

The fight was quick and brutal and bloody. There were no warning shots. There was no chance to surrender, even though their enemies might’ve wished they could. The underground base had been reduced to rubble after the Hulk had taken his turn.

Steve only wished that Doom, Loki, and MODOK had been there when he did.

Thought, quite possibly the worst thing was that they hadn’t found Tony’s body. And they’d looked, searched through the rubble and narrow maze-like hallways that connected with the stormwater drains in more than a dozen places, but they hadn’t found him. 

They’d looked until Fury had forced them to leave the search to SHIELD.

And now, exhausted and bruised and grief-ridden, they huddled around the too-quiet dining table, in the dark save for the computer Bruce was typing on, because JARVIS was still offline. 

“Anything?” Steve asked, and Bruce shook his head, and pushed his glasses higher on his nose with a shaking hand.

“No, there- this- I’m  _ good _ at this, better than most people, but Tony is-  _ was _ , on a whole other level and I can barely make heads or tails of the coding language, it’s like nothing-” 

The chirp of the elevator cut him off, and Steve turned to greet whoever it was. Pepper, maybe, or Rhodes. Maybe SHIELD with news.

And stopped breathing as Tony stormed towards them, covered in dust and blood, manacles dented but still around his wrists, though the chain between them had been severed by something. His undersuit was torn in places and lines of fury were etched into his face. He stopped just short of Bruce, and took the laptop out of his slack hands, all but slamming it onto the other side of the table and typing in furious code, and lit only by the glow of the reactor and the computer screen he looked like a ghost.

No one else had moved, still too shocked or…  _ something _ to do anything but watch, and they all jumped when Tony swore, something about “hardline access” and insults that would’ve made any good army kid blush and slammed the laptop lid down, picking it up and storming back to the elevator.

The doors slid shut, and they all exploded into motion at once. 

“Did you-”

“-Yes but  _ how _ -” 

“-Oh God, it’s him-”

“QUIET!” Natasha shouted, standing and marched toward the elevator, everyone else following without question. “He’ll be at the server room, if it’s really him.” She said, the calmness in her voice betrayed by the way her hands curled into fists. 

None of them said anything else as they piled into the elevator, not a word spoken as it plunged into the depths of the tower, down through sub basements that they needed override codes to access, that Steve didn’t know even existed.

When the doors opened, it was to an airlock of an entranceway, open to show rows and rows of huge servers, Tony sitting on the floor in front of the nearest one muttering under his breath as he typed on the laptop. 

In the new light, his upper back was crusted with dried blood, and his hands came away red when he ran them through his hair. “I’m going to fucking  _ shred _ them for this.” He bit out, as he deleted an entire section of angry red code. 

They took a step closer, and Tony didn’t acknowledge them at all, too focused in repairing JARVIS. “Though, you guys did a pretty good job yourselves. A+ on the avenging, though next time maybe  _ don’t _ bring the whole damn thing down on my head- Jesus fuck, what did they  _ do  _ to you?!” He said under his breath, keeping up a steady stream of curses and vows to do horrible things to Doom next time, “That ugly plate-faced fucker showed his hide anywhere  _ near _ New York.”

They stayed like that for a long time, until Tony hit the spacebar with a flourish, and the lights turned on. “Welcome back, J.” He called, looking towards the nearest camera with an uncertain grin.

“It is good to be back, Sir.” JARVIS replied, and Tony just slumped like a puppet with his strings cut, dropping the laptop and holding a hand against his chest.

He looked back to the team, and nodded to something in his own head. “Yeah, yeah. Ok. I’m- ‘m just gonna-” He started, and nearly fell over when he tried to stand, but the fact that he didn’t wave off Steve’s arm was more telling than words about his state.“You remember the code? The one I told you?” He asked, weight stoll mostly on Steve as they shuffled into the elevator.

Steve just nodded, and Tony continued. “Yeah, well, it just means that i’m fine. JARVIS was supposed to  _ tell _ you, and-”

Steve cut him off gently. “It’s  _ ok _ . You didn’t know they’d gotten JARVIS.” He said, and lowered Tony down onto the couch before taking a seat himself, not touching Tony, but close enough to hear his heartbeat. In the new light, Tony looked even worse, cement dust and little cuts and his hair still dark with blood. Steve forced away the image of Tony lying on the floor, still and  _ dead _ with blood pooling behind him. “You’re here now, and you didn’t die. That’s all-” Steve started, but paused when Tony looked away. “Tony…”

“Technically…” Tony started.

Clint interrupted. “Uh, yeah. Are you  _ sure _ you’re not cursed, because we watched you  _ shoot yourself in the head _ less than an  _ hour _ ago, and here you are, up and about and presumably, without a  _ bullet _ in your skull. Want to tell us how you managed that one, Stark?” He said, sharp and biting and he was twisting an arrow in his hand, because they knew what they saw and what they saw hadn’t been survivable.

Tony winced, and sat up straighter. “Alright, before I say anything, I just want to remind everyone that I’m here, I’m fine, and it was kinda the only other option.” 

That… that was  _ so  _ many shades of not good, and Steve had to force himself to  _ breath _ and not shake the man beside him. 

Tony took a deep breath, and started talking, almost so quick that Steve didn’t hear it. “So, about the not-dying thing,  _ technically _ , I kinda… did. For about three minutes.” He said, and had obviously seen the horrified looks on everyone’s faces, but he just kept talking, even faster than before, fingers drumming a nervous tattoo on the arc reactor. “This thing, it’s got what’s basically an emergency defibrillator built-in, just in case things go really really poorly, but since it’s, you know, basically just delivering a shock right to my heart, it can also do the opposite of what it’s designed for. Not’s it’s intended use, sure but, yeah.” He said, still not meeting anyone’s eyes, and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. 

“Wasn’t too hard to set it to start it again after a time, and when I, uh, woke up again, everyone else was gone so i just, left. Or, I tried to, got as far as the easternmost tunnel before it kinda… collapsed. Not that I blame any of you!” He said, waving his hand in stringent denial, “But that’s why i took so long to get back. I had to shift some rubble, and trek through the storm drain system until I found an exit. So, yeah. That’s what happened.” Tony laughed, a short mirthful huff. “Looks like the terrible trio got what they wanted after all, even if it was slightly less… permanent than they might’ve wanted.”

There was silence, thick and pressing as everyone absorbed that. “But, there was blood.” Steve said, heard himself say, somewhat distantly. 

Tony nodded, a hand going to the back of his head. “Yeah. Ripped my stitches, kinda-sorta on purpose, sorry Bruce, and bit my tongue. Nothing harmfull, but enough for it to be believable.”

“Yeah. It was pretty damn believable.” Steve growled despite himself, and Tony flinched.

“Look, I’m  _ sorry _ . It wasn’t like I could’ve told you, and I  _ didn’t have a choice. _ Do you think I  _ wanted _ to do this? Do you think I fucking  _ wanted _ to die, no matter how temporary? News flash,  _ It’s not pleasant!” _ Tony barked back, hands clenching into fists and Steve reared back like he’d been hit.

The fight left him in an instant. “That’s not- that’s not what I meant. Just-”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, sinking further into the couch even as Bruce squeezed in behind him and started trying to find the cut on his head, “Yeah. Can we just agree that today has been  _ remarkably _ shitty, order a ridiculous amount of food and watch a bad movie?” He asked, and there was a round of quiet but enthusiastic agreements. JARVIS added that their usual pizza order had been called in, and queued up one of the movies in the playlist especially for times like those. At some point, Tony has slumped further until his head was in Bruce’s lap and his legs were across Steve’s, Bruce’s hands still buried in his hair but less checking for injuries, and more just straight-up  _ petting _ . “I,” Tony stated, “Am never moving again.” 

Steve thought that was perfectly reasonable. 

No one was really watching the movie, not really, but JARVIS still auto-paused when Clint spoke. “You know, Stark, I’m beginning to think that you might  _ actually _ be immortal.” He said, from his spot on the large armchair where he was half-under Natasha. Thor grunted an agreement from where he was sprawled out on the floor. 

Tony grinned, and tipped his head back so he could look at Clint upside-down. “I can neither confirm nor deny.” He sing-songed, and everyone chuckled before falling back into companionable silence. 

No. Tony wasn’t immortal, not even close. He could die, he  _ had _ died. 

The important thing was that he kept coming  _ back _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Itsallavengers. They are great, and I wanted to write my own Immortal!Tony fic. Come say hi at my [Tumblr!](rowantreewrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
